


Head Heart Hang-ups

by tawg



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bruce Banner is still 'not that kind of doctor', F/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Iron Man 3, mental health fic, pepper potts honestly gets put through some pretty traumatic events in the MCU, psychiatry, responding to mental health problems, serious conversations on date night, tony stark may be aware that he's a traumatic event himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:31:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawg/pseuds/tawg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After everything that Pepper has been through, Tony's not exactly surprised that she's started seeing a psychiatrist. He's also terrified about what it will mean for their relationship, but Pepper already has that part figured out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head Heart Hang-ups

**Author's Note:**

> [kaguya-yoru](http://kaguya-yoru.tumblr.com) requested a fic of "how an Avenger (or more than one if you like) would respond to a psychiatry session". Pepper may not be an Avenger, but I think this one still manages to fit the prompt.

“What was it like?” Tony asked towards the end of the meal. They’d spent the pre-meal talking about Stark Industries, the entree talking about some projects to be refined from personal to public use. Most of the main course conversation had been dominated by Tony; his current projects, his predicted projects. He’d taught Jarvis how to pun earlier in the week, but as the AI had a broader vocabulary than his creator Tony rarely caught the jokes. He had to rely on Jarvis’ smug tone to give them away. 

Which meant that they had been dining for at least ninety minutes before Tony worked up the nerve to ask about it. Pepper’s appointment.

“It was fine,” Pepper said, before delicately taking a piece of sour and salty carrot into her mouth. Tony stared hard at her, trying to gauge how much she was covering up. He wasn’t an expert on Pepper, something he felt guilty and relieved about in turns. Not being an expert meant that he got to be oblivious to most of his Pepper-related failures. It also meant that he got tripped up and tangled in a Pepper-specific clumsiness when she dropped a bombshell (not that Pepper was the one with the bomb-related reputation). Like the one she’d dropped that morning when asking if they could switch their lunch date to a dinner. Because she was busy during her lunch hour. Because she’d made an appointment with a psychiatrist.

Pepper gave Tony a look, and he recognised it as falling somewhere in the exasperated spectrum. “It was fine,” she repeated. “Usual first-appointment stuff.”

“I don’t know what first-appointment stuff is,” Tony replied. “I get you to take care of that for me so I can cut straight to the interesting bit.”

Pepper smiled then, though it was still a little exasperated. It was one of her ‘Oh, Tony’ smiles. She had a set of them. He wasn’t sure what they all meant, but this particular example was fairly common. “I filled out some forms,” Pepper elaborated. “We talked about history. My medical history, any family history. We talked about why I was there. What was going on with me and why I had decided on a psychiatrist and in what ways I wanted the problem to be fixed.”

Tony had dropped his eyes to his waterglass as she spoke, and Pepper had kindly shifted her gaze to some artwork hung across the room. She probably knew the artist, what genre it was. Tony had never cared much about art. He knew that it could be worth something one day and so buying it had seemed like the lovechild of gambling and the stock market. He’d dabbled inexpertly at collecting (though he would never admit aloud that he had lacked consideration in his purchases). But Pepper. 

Pepper knew art, recognised some quality in it that Tony didn’t like examining. She hadn’t ever really forgiven him for donating their collection. She understood. Understood it all with her usual quickness. She was rebuilding her collection – under her name and her own authority now – and every now and then Tony would outbid her at an auction just for the small pleasure of being able to give her something that she wanted. Maybe he could buy her the painting on the wall, commemorate time number three thousand and sixty-two that Tony had been a brat and she had kindly refrained from telling him so.

Pepper hadn’t been well, after New York. And because she was Pepper and because it was her nature to deal with things quietly and efficiently, it had been all too easy for Tony to just... not know. Happy had mentioned it. Jarvis had mentioned it. Tony had decided to never ever bring it up because there were plenty of things in life that he wanted but only a fine few that he needed, and Pepper was one of them. Pepper being unwell was terrifying. 

And then she had talked to him about it and that had been even worse. Because Tony knew that kind of unwell and he sure as hell didn’t have any answers. Not that she’d needed any. She’d curled up next to him on a couch, her head on his chest and one of her sweet little hands resting just below a new and novel kind of scar tissue on his chest, and she’d told him about not being able to sleep. About getting distracted by something small and having her mind dragged into something bigger and not being able to extricate herself from the tumble of words and feelings.

It had been stupid, and undeniably self-absorbed, but Tony’s first thought as he had tightened his arms around her was that maybe the dark place inside him was contagious. He’d mentioned it to Bruce, after chasing him down and cornering him for long enough to get the whole story out. Bruce had gently but firmly suggested that Tony never share that theory with Pepper, that he let whatever she was going through be about her, just as whatever Tony was going through was allowed to be completely about him. For someone who wasn’t ‘that kind of doctor’, Bruce had some okay advice when it came to matters of the head and heart.

By the time Tony had gotten his mind around that and felt prepared enough to _talk about it_ and _be supportive_ and other such techniques he’d done some vague reading on, Pepper already had things under control. She would see someone who could fix it, and it would be fixed, and everything would be okay again. Except Tony had a suspicion about exactly what needed to be fixed.

He had intended to ask her more questions, ask whether she liked her doctor and how she was feeling after the session and if she needed anything. He’d been running them through his head all afternoon, aware that this was an important thing and wanting to at least be able to play his part without fumbling. But watching Pepper watch the painting with a wistful look on her face just dragged the words right out of his mouth. “Did you talk about me?”

Pepper smiled at the painting, the corner of her mouth curling up in amusement, and Tony tried to keep from fidgeting. The painting and Pepper concluded their silent conversation, and she turned back to Tony. “A little,” she admitted. “Though I’m sure you’ll come up in conversation again.”

Tony grimaced. Shoved a last piece of steak in his mouth and talked around it. “Have I made a bad impression on your doctor yet?” he asked. (Another Bruce tip: “Don’t say ‘shrink’. It’s dismissive and antagonistic. And it makes you sound like an ass.”) “Does he hate me?”

“She,” Pepper corrected.

“She, right. I knew she was a she.”

“I specifically didn’t tell you,” Pepper replied.

“Then I definitely didn’t know. That would be... weird. Why would I know that if you hadn’t told me? Nope, assumed it was a man. You got me.”

Pepper smiled around another piece of some artisan salad that looked almost too beautiful to have been eaten. “She’s done a good job of having no opinion of you so far,” Pepper said, “and I expect her to stay that way.” She set her fork down and reached out, put a hand on Tony’s wrist. “Her job is to help me get better, Tony. Not to pass judgement on you.”

“Well, good,” Tony said awkwardly. “Not that I expect her to hate me. I’m sure...” Tony trailed off, took a deep breath and forced him mind back onto the intended track. “I’m sure that if you like her and you think she’s the right doc for you, then you’ll both work well with this whole... thing.”

Pepper smiled at him, and patted his wrist. Of all the things that he and Pepper were able to do in public together, that combination would always make Tony’s chest tight. The motions that said so clearly that she knew he was trying and that she appreciated it. “And,” Tony continued, “I can help too. If you need it. If there’s something you need.”

“Good,” Pepper said in a warm voice that was an ambivalent pleasure to hear because it meant she was happy but it also meant that Tony had stepped into quicksand. “I was hoping that you would come to a session with me sometime soon.” 

Tony tensed up. They had a kind of agreement – Tony muddled along in trying to fix himself. That was the whole agreement. It was when the fixing stopped or started to come undone that it turned into a disagreement. Pepper had wanted Tony to talk to someone, and Tony had compromised and talked to Bruce, and that plan had been working fine for everyone who wasn’t Bruce. It was working okay and Tony didn’t want to swap it for something that would turn him inside out.

“We were talking about my sleep problems,” Pepper continued, her thumb rubbing slowly back and forth across the back of his hand. “I mentioned that you kept odd hours and that we did our best to work with that, and she suggested that we talk about it more in depth later on and see if we can find some ways to improve my sleep quality.”

Tony examined the proposal from all sides. “So you need me because...?”

“I think it would be good for me if you were there,” Pepper said, and the clear and even way she looked at him was completely honest. “Since we live together, things like bedtimes and when we sleep in different rooms and how to keep our habits from slipping when we’re apart is a conversation that I would like you to be a part of. And the most direct way for that to happen is for you to be present.” Pepper was apparently not beyond rehearsing conversations herself.

Tony leaned back in his chair, flipped his hand over so he was holding Pepper’s fingers gently against his palm. “Okay,” he said. This was Pepper’s doctor, Pepper’s problems and her health. And Tony could be a part of them. He _wanted_ to be part of them – it was just that he wanted to be a good part rather than a bad one. And it wasn’t like Pepper needed a doctor of anything to tell her that Tony might not be the best partner for her. But Pepper was the best match for him. He gave her a small, nervous smile. “Sure,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Whatever you need.” Pepper’s smile in return was real, and a little misty at the edges. 

Tony stared deep into Pepper’s eyes, cradled her hand and said, “I’m going to buy that ugly painting. How much do you think the ugly painting is worth?”

Pepper laughed. The main course was cleared away. They spent dessert bickering about how Tony was not allowed to by paintings anymore, and where he would hang it when he did.


End file.
